The surface of the mirror smooth pool is broken without warning. The early dawn shutters and shakes itself to life as the movements that happen under the cover of darkness now become visible and audible.The very real presence of a steelhead is made known with the unmistakeable head and tail roll of a newly arrived, active, and happy fish. We are first into the run and anticipation is high. This fish will most likely eat a swinging fly and after years of fishing this pool and seeing these early morning antics countless times, I can hardly contain myself. The wading out to the casting station is some of the most treacherous anywhere in the world. Trust me on this one. The water is up 4 inches or so making every step that much more difficult.The North Umpqua is particularly hairy wading anyway, but getting out to this run is in a class all by itself. A series of steps and moves that cross deep channels while balancing on precarious bedrock and walking along barely submerged reef. The direction of travel is evident by the path made from thousands that have made their mark on these rocks before.The lighter colored scars showing well worn foot steps from the studded boots that have become our lifeline.This subsurface trail wanders out to mid river like a drunken sailor. This path is not at all straight and takes advantage of any flat or shallower spot to make the journey easier. This is a commitment to be sure but it is part of the challenge that makes this river so fun. There is nothing easy here.But the fish are here and it often rewards the diligent and persistent, and so we go.I manage to get my dude out to the spot without either of us swimming which is always a good way to start. I hate an early morning bath is 45 degree water.

The line from the first cast unfurls and hits the water. Even though the line lands softly, it is almost as if a bomb went off as the line sends concentric rings ever outward, disturbing a once placid surface.Successive casts put the fly into the zone of the usual first fishes lie, and where I believe our early morning riser is calmly laying.The mend is right and the drift is good. As the fly comes through slow and steady and enters the fishes holding lie,a slight tightening of the line and small pluck are all that registers on the line and rod. "That was him" I say quietly. I am  answered with "Do they grab it that softly"?  "Sometimes even softer" I say. Another few drifts through and the same pluck, almost more of a kiss happens again. We change flies and try to get a solid commitment out of the fish to no avail. This fish would not move aggressively to the fly so we went in search of another. This experience at this run will be saved in the super computer of my mind and will go in with all the other calculations and observations that I am constantly rolling around in my mind. Every one of these experiences is more information complied on the ever elusive and unpredictable quarry we chase.There is more than one way to count success in my book and hooking every fish I go up against is not the measure I use.

Then I got to thinking......Having one of the last really healthy wild fish rivers on the planet to pursue these fish is a gift. Every wild fish encountered here is a gift and this last trip really hammered that point home to me.In fact every part of the fishing experience on this river is a gift. It's a gift to be able to RUN up and down her banks. It's a gift to be able to SEE her in her fall beauty, leaves brilliantly colored in the afternoon sun. It's a gift to be able to HEAR the raven call from on high as he rides the canyon wind. The water ouzel and the otter, the beaver, heron and eagle are just some of the gifts you see on any given day.All of the senses come alive as you ply her waters and the overwhelming feeling of being very small and insignificant take over. It's an amazing place to steward and support, full of gifts to be unwrapped as they show themselves daily. The fish are but a few of the many treasures on this river.

I thank God daily for the gifts He has given me......my wife, my kids, my extended family and friends. I am thankful for health and prosperity and the ability to enjoy what He has created for us.

Wherever you fish.......look for and appreciate the gifts you find and remember who the gift giver is.

Down By The River from the new album Treasure by Neil Young and The International Harvesters.......So good!
 

The Klamath River, running through the rugged Northern California mountains, used to hold the fourth largest population of salmon and steelhead in the world. Every year millions of fish would surge up stream. Now, over fishing, agriculture, and bad politics have taken their toll, and the once great runs are not only diminished, they are mostly gone. To many fly fisherman, the Klamath might as well be dead. But angler Ryan Peterson has heard rumors that during the winter, a run of massive steelhead creep upstream unnoticed. Is it a good yarn or is it real? This season Ryan wants to find out. The search for the ghost run begins.


The Season Episode 2.8...Lewis and Clarke from Fitz Cahall and Bryan Smith on Vimeo.

A bunch of great contributors on this new blog.....should be a fun one to follow.  The wheels are just starting to turn on this, about 10 posts so far. I am fortunate and humbled to be able to post on this new blog from time to time.

Rail Against The Darkness is an exceptional post with outstanding visual imagery by my friend Alexander Grant.

Check it out here-The Long Line Collective

The motor on the sled coughs twice and then fires. It's 7:00 pm on Friday night and after a rather hasty drive down to Macks Canyon, my good buddy Tim and I have committed ourselves to driving the sled down river and finding a camp in the 20 minutes or so of remaining light. We are pushing the limit, but we have done this many times before. We know every rock in this section and where the water flows and exactly where we need to be.....and right now we need to be down river QUICK! Oh yeah, there are about 10 sled trailers in the lot and more floaters rigs and trailers than you can shake a stick at. Right out of the box it doesn't look promising to find a camp anywhere in the first 3-4 miles. We run wide open past camp after camp as the darkness starts to close in.We pass several marginal camps and cash all our chips in and gamble for a lower camp.....it's gonna be tight. We round the corner above our desired location thinking surely we have a winning hand.Slowing slightly in the fading day,we strain to see boats,lights or some color from tents or camps. As the camp comes into view, our worst fears are realized.It's fully loaded up on both sides! Dang, this could get ugly. With scant minutes of safe running conditions the throttle is twisted to the limit with renewed vigor.Tim banks the boat and powers through a class 3 drop at bone jarring speed. Fishermen and rafters, sitting down for their evening meal look up in surprise as we leave a vapor trail down the center of the river. We have an ace in the hole and a card or two up our sleeve but were gonna need a good river card. And we get it. At the last possible minute,the sled slides into the sandy beach of a primo unoccupied camp.We both breathe a silent sigh of relief while still maintaining our poker faces. Comments like "That wasn't too bad' and "I knew we would find a spot" are softly spoken....but we both knew we pushed a big stack of chips and we were All In on this night. And the gamble paid off.

We awake to what I can only describe as pandemonium. Sleds going upriver, sleds going down river, guide boats with 6-8 side planning gear guys,spey guys, hunters... a total zoo. We sit in camp and watch the debacle. We are in no hurry to join the boat races this morning and we calmly sit and map out a plan. When we finally jump in the boat to fish we are in no particular rush. We have no idea where we are even going. We take off up river and then start passing the hordes of early floaters that are moving camp. Really, never seen anything like it down there. It seems as if everyone that lived within a 1000 miles had just bought a new pontoon boat, drift boat, sled or other floating device and all of them decided to come and try them out this weekend. I have never seen so many boats of all kinds that were on their maiden voyage.

Despite the traffic, we found willing fish in almost every run we fished. The fish were happy and real players. I had more than a few fish raise multiple times and never even needed to change flies. I just kept sending the same skater through and eventually they would hammer it. The first fish I hooked was a first time,no messing around, zone in on it with lazer lock precision and kill the fly with a full head and beaver tail slap. No waiting for the weight of the fish, it was a solid eat and instantaneous Hardy paying out kite string like it was going out of style. A perfect wild Deschutes buck of about 8 lbs. Not a mark on him and just barely getting rosey.I rose one 5 times last night that I finally got to go and he ate with an amazing broadside flourish that left me shaking. Watching a fish that you have risen multiple times finally commit and eat is a chess match that never gets old. Each drift into the zone brings an excitement that I will never outgrow.Then seeing the entire body of an almost 30 inch fish pounce on the fly is almost  indescribable. Those of you who know, well you just know. I got another beautiful wild hen this morning that again ate with an aggressive, vicious rush at the fly after several rises. She made strong powerful runs and did everything she was supposed to do.

I am a firm believer in showing the fish something different and with all the flies and gear these fish were seeing, the surface presentation just seemed to be the ticket for us. Tim's experience mirrored mine and he hooked and landed a few nice fish as well with multiple players along the way. Not bad fishing for the crowded conditions and the short time we were there. I think we moved 10-12 fish in a couple days and actually hooked 6-7 of those. Landing them all is secondary to me.

It's always an exciting time anytime you can get out on the river. We slept under the stars and waning half moon with no tent. We fished the method we wanted to with single handed rods and long belly steelhead taper lines. We didn't let the crowds get to us and just fished new water when we were forced to. I hooked fish in a couple places I never have, exploring those places we always looked at but never tried. It was a great trip.

Sometimes you gotta push your chips in to the middle and hope your hand develops as those last cards hit the table.This time it paid to gamble.

Good fishing

 I have been traveling a lot for work and fishing when I can. I get to see some amazing country in my REAL job.I am thankful to God who made made it all. It never fails to amaze me how awesome the Northwest is.

Here are some recent pictures, enjoy!